


Simplicity at its softest

by SparkyScribbles



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, Married Couple, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkyScribbles/pseuds/SparkyScribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles, both romantic and platonic with characters from Fire Emblem: Awakening.</p><p>Unbeta'd as of right now</p><p>Tags will be added with each new chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lingering nerves

Marriage was a blessing in the time of war, a luxury that was hard to find amongst fellow soldiers. Falling in love took work, a lot of it. And marriage seemed to come with an unspoken promise of immediate physical gratification that made her squirm uneasily. It was hard enough opening up emotionally and the idea of being exposed beyond her dancer outfit made it all the more intimidating.

 

Still, Olivia counted herself lucky to have a ring around her finger, her heart alive and warm even though her husband's skin was cold. Her fingers were curled around his bony hands, thumb rubbing over his knuckles as he filled the silence with his usual excited chatter, with the slightest hint of nervousness worming it's way into his throat. It was nice, just curled against him, mutually relishing the final butterflies in their stomach from the wedding earlier. A jittery Henry was adorable, in Olivia's opinion. The moment his voice cracked she squeaked a giggle and leaned her head into his shoulder.

 

All things considered, he cleaned up amazingly for today, he hardly smelt of rust and that was the most she'd ever really ask of him. It was hidden under the scent that she was certain Maribelle used and she tilted her head to look up at him through her pink bangs, and her lips parted, only for a moment and Henry abruptly ended his thought once he took notice.

 

“Did you… use Maribelle's perfume?” The corners of her lips twitched into a soft smile when he cleared his throat.

 

“Funny thing about that! Even after washing up she threw the biggest fit! She asked me if I was even serious about the wedding, how silly is that? And so, to prove I was serious, I used as much of her perfume as I could!” He cackled, leaning into her and his smiling lips grazed the side of her head. “Not even that could hide the blood!”

 

“No wonder you smelled like roses!” She giggled, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “You're gonna have to pay her back, you know that, right? You do know everything she has is expensive...” She pressed closer, her forehead pressing against his neck. “Though… It is nice.” Her lips pressed to the side of his neck and she felt his pulse quicken.

 

It was their wedding night after all; he's probably expectant, she thought. Sliding her hand up his arm and around his shoulder, she glanced to him to find his face flushed, his fingers twitched around her free hand. He was stiff as a board, and that wasn't a trait she was used to in their times of curling into each other's arms. So she pulled back, confused and brows knitted together in concern.

 

“Henry, what's wrong? Are you not well?” She rose her hands to his cheeks, cupping his face between her palms and he breathed a small sigh, leaning into her touch and she cherished his moment of reliance.

 

“I'm fine, I just… I don't...” He pursed his lips, as if searching and she felt that concern fester into anxiety. Did he regret marrying her? Did he think this was a mistake? What if he didn't love her?

 

She almost drew her hands to her chest at such thoughts popping into her head, it was enough that tears swelled in the corner of her eyes and she saw panic settle subtly into his features.

 

“Hey, hey! Don't cry, you're jumping to all kinds of conclusions in your head, aren't you?” His hands held her shoulders, gently as they shook from choked off whimpers. Tears rolling down the soft, pink curves of her cheek and he wiped them as best he could with his thumbs.

 

“I just don't think I'm ready for making love yet! That's all! I think we can wait on it.” He rushed out, leaning in to press a kiss to her nose and she felt calmed, sniffling softly as the last of the tears spilled out.

 

“You're… not?” She blinked up at him, watching him nod and the relief was overwhelming. “Thank the Gods.” She sighed, a hand over her heart and she tilted her head, a smile on her face once more in a familiar curve that the dark mage grew to hold dear. Dearer than the sight of gore spilling out an enemy's stomach in a sloppy heap of blood and tissue.

 

“So tonight I was hoping we could do something else!” He chirped, peppering another kiss just under her eye were a small tear settled below her water line. Like that, she felt the ease of being with him, lulling the anxiety, tucked in the back of her mind, to rest.

 

“What'd you have in mind?” She responded, leaning in to press a kiss of her own to the corner of his cold lips. And she relished the happy hum that came from behind his teeth.

 

“How about...” He stood from the bed, fingers zipping with hers and tugging her up slowly until they were pressed together, her lips easily meeting his forehead. “You teach me how to dance? Fair warning, I've got two left feet so it might take all night!”

 

“Luckily the night is young.” She swayed, dizzy with joy and arms draping around his shoulders. “But for now I want to hug you a little longer.” With their foreheads together she could just barely see past his eye lids to a murky brown, maybe black. His eyes never did seem to stay open long enough to tell.

 

“How can I turn down hugs from my cute wife?” His arms slid around her torso, pulling her close as if she was his lifeline, breaking their eye contact to instead rest his own head against her neck. She combed her fingers through his hair, the stiffness finally vanishing from his shoulders. “You're warm...” He mumbled.

 

Her heart fluttered like a small bird, and they swayed, quiet and comfortable to the tune of crickets.


	2. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longing is unladylike.

Maribelle was longing.

She realized this one late day over a steaming cup of black tea with a heavenly tang of raspberries that made her lips pucker slightly. A single lump of sugar. No more, no less. She realized her longing as she read a book a book, a mildly taboo one that recounted a king and his friend, how they ran off together, happily in love.

Maribelle was longing and she found it unsavory and definitely unladylike.

She shut the book the moment Lissa entered the room, face bright and a smile that was contagious. They celebrated the quiet day tucked away together in the barracks, unabashedly avoiding training if only to enjoy the day of rest.

If only so Maribelle could bask in the presence of the one who stole her heart unknowingly.

Perhaps it was longer than she realized, Maribelle considered, that she's been smitten with her best friend. The bliss of her affection fades into shame quicker than she thought possible. She could almost see their bond growing frayed, clumsy, and awkward at the very prospect of admitting these feelings openly. So she stayed quiet. Plump lips curved into a soft, charming smile as they talked. When no one else was around, they leaned close to one another, whispering bits of gossip. Though Lissa didn't realize, Maribelle's attention was less on the rumors and instead lingered on Lissa's chapped lips.

She wanted desperately and her only solace was that she was not alone.

She's seen Frederick's eyes linger on Chrom a second too long, just enough time to catch the shame brewing behind stoic, dark eyes. The moments Panne and Henry both seemed to seek out the dancer, taking every opportunity to try and coax a conversation from her. Even in the eyes of their tactician, though it was faint, the tactician eyes were as soft as a lover's to all the soldiers. Only for a fraction of a second before they seemed to snap back to their senses. Maribelle was relieved to not be alone.

She could live like this. Wanting hopelessly for what will never come.

Her tea was green that day, fate foreshadowing envy when Lissa's showed her left hand, a ring coiled around her ring finger. She almost dropped her tea cup but she held it firm in her shaky grip, rising and smiling in return, trying to mask her ugly jealousy behind the guise of joy. They talked about the wedding to come, as small as Chrom and Sumia's, with all the soldiers as witnesses.

Naturally, the soldiers were excited for Lissa and her husband to be. Maribelle was so focused on the shattering of her heart to even notice him standing beside the woman that could put Naga to shame in terms of benevolence.

She helped Lissa prepare, listened to Chrom fussing and worrying outside the tent the whole time. Repeatedly, he asked her if she was certain, and each time Maribelle hoped for Lissa to hesitate. But she didn't. Lissa twirled in her dress and Maribelle resisted the urge to hold her.

Perhaps this was a lesson in letting go.

She watched Lissa get married, her heart heavy and weighing down the false smile she kept carefully woven into her cheeks. The lump in her throat was painful so she did her best to talk as little as possible. She found it humorous, if a little sad, that the only ones to notice her behavior was Frederick, who looked to her sympathetically, and Vaike who took the opportunity to try and strike up a conversation on how nicely the event was put together with Maribelle on the job. Her silence stunned him into worry and though he tried to ask, she excused herself to hide in her tent. Intent on sleeping through the rest of the day.

Maybe she was more obvious than she thought… Sumia checked up on her later in the night with a brew of tea that she offered with a sheepish smile. Apparently, she burnt the leaves. Maribelle drank it down without letting it cool, it hot enough to scald her tastebuds to make the flavor a little more tolerable. The morning came and Gaius passed by to hand her a tart, which was startling, but he only said that it couldn't fit in his tent. She knew it was a lie but she thanked him. Robin made sure that they and Donnel caught a decent meal and Maribelle tried to contain the swell of relief that they managed to catch birds. It was easy on her stomach.

It was days later that another soldier asked for her hand. Of all the people to approach her, she really didn't anticipate Lon'qu. She accepted. His presence was calming, the two were strong together and being with him guaranteed the space needed to begin moving on.

Lissa and Ricken were happy for her, their fingers laced together, an innocent show of their relationship. It was slightly easier to smile and there was little contact during the wedding for the sword master's sake. He was a little hesitant even having a wedding so it was secluded, limited to Chrom, Lissa, and Robin as their witnesses. The other soldiers were polite, waiting outside.

The years, while kind, did nothing for the unrequited feelings that lingered persistently for her best friend, a reminder that her heart was wrapped around the princess's finger. She was thankful that Lon'qu understood and on the night she told him the deep seated feelings still festering, he made the move to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Though he was tense, leaning against him and confessing to her shame was cathartic. Perhaps this wasn't love yet, but it was comfortable. That was enough.

She was relieved to see Brady, it lit a powerful hope that one day she does let go. Let go of the years of wanting but he hands her written poems from another her in another time, burnt edges and paper yellowing.

Poems about a princess eloping with her best friend.


End file.
